


Snakes on a Not-Quite Plain

by ElenoftheWays



Series: Re-Synchronizing Pines Twin Powers [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Dealing With Trauma, Flashbacks, Forced to work as a team again, Ford and Stan are on the same page but on different paragraphs, Ford and Stan still make a great team after 40 years, Gen, Introspection, Monster of the Week, Movie References, My heart truly aches for these boys, POV Alternating, Post Episode: s02e12 A Tale of Two Stans, Pre-Episode: s02e13 Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons, Stan Pines in hysterical physical pain, Stan and Ford dealing with Filbrick's verbal and emotional abuse, TV Show References, The Journals (Gravity Falls), Yes Stan might have watched The Emperor's New Groove at one point, adapted science experiments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23907313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenoftheWays/pseuds/ElenoftheWays
Summary: But the fight started to feel like some kind of dream Bill would contrive for his own perverse gratification after 30 years, the substantial memory of it fading but the key points still so bright in his mind. Stanford could genuinely open his mouth right now and say anything that accrued in his own knuckleheaded mind for the past 40 years, but this was more than that Pines stubbornness. Stan already hated him and who was Ford to poke at something that may end up even worse?*Even after managing to get all of those snake puzzle pieces back together, Stanford must've still hated him! Was it crazy to think they still made a great team even though he practically went into cardiac arrest multiple times over the past three hours?! Christ, did Stan miss the now-old bastard! Shermie was always figuratively universes away with his baseball and the engineering and the skirts too young for Stan to chase with him, but there was always that thing about being twins. He couldn’t get away from Stanford even if he wanted to. He never even wanted to until... now? Now. He couldn’t blame Ford for not wanting to be around him either. Hell, he wouldn’t even blame Ford for hating him!
Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Series: Re-Synchronizing Pines Twin Powers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818082
Kudos: 14





	Snakes on a Not-Quite Plain

“Hi, Grunkle Stan! Bye, Grunkle Stan!” 

He looked up to a cartoonish blur of pink sweaters and blue hats and vests whirring straight for the wide-open gift shop door. Oh, this was _definitely_ something to worry about on top of everything else! His arms were already crossing over his chest ready to put just enough holy terror into those kids. 

“Excuuuuse me,” Stanley croaked right out leaning closer to the register counter and almost bumping his soda can with his elbow, “where do you think you’re going?!” 

They were already out the door by the time he finished talking. 

But Mabel’s head veered in from around the corner wildly smiling like she was on her third can of Pitt Cola. 

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Stan! Grenda and Candy found something wei—” 

She was yanked right off and around the wood trim. 

Dipper popped out in her place. 

“A-actually, Grunkle Stan, Grenda and Candy wants us to help them with something. A-a craft thing!” 

“Aaand yoouu want to craft with girls, Dipper?” and Stanley’s elbows finally met with the countertop, but the noise wasn’t as loud as it should have been. He definitely needed to get a new hearing aid soon. 

“W-well, it’s not so much a craft, it’s just a-a—” 

Dipper was sweating like a fat kid in a candy shop and Stan loved every second of it more than he should have. It really was just too easy! 

“I’m just kidding, kid. Just go have fun and don’t try to get caught by Thing 1 and Thing 2!” 

“Alright!” they both chorused right out and tiny feet ran down wooden steps. 

He just shook his head. 

Like Stan believed anything those niblings just said, but despite everything, he _did_ trust both of them! Hell, between Mabel’s good-hearted judgment and Dipper’s cautiousness, nothing would get too far out of hand unless the situation went to shit which it usually did. But then the situation is usually a weird one. Weird _does_ tends to follow those kids and here Stan was struggling to keep them safe from something that always ended up coming back! His stomach squirmed. He really was failing as a summer guardian! Maybe he should send Soos to tail them. But his own words haunted him all over again. “...You stay away from the kids; I don’t want them in danger” got slowly louder between his ears and _he_ was worried about _Ford_ getting them into scarier weirdness?! Man, was he kind of a hypocrite! 

But at the same time, everything surrounding Poindexter and his portal had to be off limits. It had ta be! Stanley already lost Stanford to all of that weirdness in so many ways, so there was zero chance in hell Shermie’s grandkids were going to get involved! The fact that the portal was being dismantled even as he stood right here should have been comforting, but the fact that Ford was doing it in favor of clearly avoiding him was another!

No, wait.

It was a _good_ thing that Stanford was avoiding him! Why would he even think this?!

Stan really has been off his game since Ford came back! 

“Eh, shake it off, Pines,” he shook his head so fast, his fez tilted down his forehead, “Sixer made his choice.” The eraser-side of the pencil already in his hand nudged it back up before writing the last forty dollars down in the books. 

“And now...” and with a victorious lift in the air like a knight of the eraser-shaped table complete with a dramatic pause not even caring that he was talking to himself, “we go put a few beers in the ol’ breadbasket.” 

His knees cracked from standing there for so long. Wendy just had to take the stool with her as a “right of protest” over something about her paycheck or something like that, but Stanley was pretty sure he could recover it from that “secret” hideout on the roof. Like he didn’t even know his own house! But his knees kept popping from a distance as he turned around the counter corner. 

“Come on, you little bastards,” Stan bent just enough to punch at both of them, “Have you forgotten how I nursed you back to health after Rico’s goons went after you in ‘74?!” 

That stale air smelling like the basement blew across his forehead and ruffled his sideburns. Stanley froze before he started sprinting. He couldn’t have run out of the gift shop fast enough, but one knee locked up and tripped him over his feet right in the middle of the shop floor. His stomach mostly broke the fall. Of freaking course! Stan just kept staring at the floor before slamming his eyes shut. Light footsteps walked even closer to him, that basement air that still gave him the heebie jeebies flexing over his head. 

A sigh flexed just overhead. 

“Stanley, I’m _trying_ to make an effort here.” 

“Uh?” he looked right up to Ford, well, an older version of Ford he still wasn’t quite used to just yet. His hand stretched right out to help him up and Stan’s chest hurt like he ate the best greasy steak and eggs on planet earth, but in a sad way, “Oh!” he grabbed at those too-familiar but not too-familiar six fingers and pushing himself off the floor. Man, did he feel like a dope. “Right, thanks.” 

The corners of Stanley’s eyes ached as they looked everywhere in the gift shop, but this senior citizen-version of his older twin brother. He started reaching for the back of his neck. And to tell you the truth, it kinda hurt to look at Ford since he became the "Caddyshack" gopher and only coming up when he really had to. And there was all of Stanford’s listing off his own conditions in his head all over again, every one of them feeling like every bullet he ever dodged in his life finally hitting him square in the chest. But then the one about his name was a reasonable request so Stan would have to officially change his name or worse. 

“You’re welcome, Stanley.” 

Ford’s deeper disembodied voice could not have sounded anymore colder and scientific as Stan kept ignoring him. Shitty bifocals tried to focus on the Employees Only sign in the knowledge that just behind that door was his favorite chair in the whole shack and a case of beer. Of course, he was already drawing towards it and right past Stanford. 

“Great Newton’s eyebrows!” 

Someone was going to hurt Ford; someone was going to come after Ford! 

Stan turned around so fast, he didn’t have a second to think about his knees. The door into the living room whacked right up against his spine, a little yelp almost vomiting right out of his mouth. 

Wait, what? 

His twin was kneeling on the floor, that long beige coat almost blending in with the bright wood. There was no way to know if Stanford was really fine or not, but at least his back wasn’t shaking! Stanley finally stopped gasping for air and clenched up fists quickly went back to their sides. 

Well, shit. 

“Hello there!” and that older version of his twin’s voice Stanley still wasn’t entirely used to sounded like it was speaking to a child even younger than Mabel and Dipper, “I think I might know what you are! Could you please give me one minute?” 

Something squeaked from a distance like that squirrel language from that rando Disney movie (or was it a TV show?!) Stan found on TV once. 

“Stanley!” and Ford ran up to the vending machine punching the numbers in at a breakneck speed, looking way too much like he was 10-years-old and excited to get to the beach to work on the boat. The door opened and a little of that basement dust started coating his eyes. But they couldn’t find whatever it was that Ford was just talking to, this also being a little perk to avoid that look. If Stan watched it for too long, there was a good chance he would break. 

“Stanley,” Stanford panted and a huge smile bled out onto his face from that big dopey look behind those thick glasses. Nope, Stan still couldn’t do it as he scanned the gift shop one more time. “F-fine, just, c-could you keep our guest company for me please? I know it’s a lot to ask, but please? Thank you! Just stay right there!” 

If Stan knew any better, he could feel the heat off of those six fingers before that hand dropped back to his side after hovering inches away from his chest. The door whizzed open a little wider and Ford barreled down into his gopher hole. Stanley just shook his head all over again, looking around for this “guest.” 

Wait, what?! 

A see-through medium-sized piece of glass kind of shaped like a sparkly bent noodle laid right in the middle of floor. And he was actually moving towards it! He regretfully got down on his knees and they cracked all the way down. 

“Wait a minute, _you_ were talking?!” 

The top half inched off the floor once then twice, the scaly detail at the joint kind of glittering with the light right here in his pride and joy that was the gift shop. If Stan knew any better, that was something like a nod. But Ford was talking to whatever this was and his fingers were already lifting for that one hearing aid. 

PHHWWWTTTTT! 

“Gahk!” 

“...but Ia said I was just being paranoid, but then Li said no I’m not, we have to separate and meet back around that weird human wood nest thing in the forest so _I_ said...” 

“You _can_ talk?!” 

The see-through V-shaped noodle twitched the top half of its body to the side like it was tilting its head. 

“You’re very slow up on the uptake, s-sir,” the really tiny high-pitched voice squeaked out, “I’m trying to tell you I think my family is lost and no one’s here on time and I’m a little scared—” 

“What _are_ you exactly?!” 

“You’re not as smart as that other guy, are you?” 

Stan flinched back a little stunned. 

There were a million and one things he could say back to this, this, this piece of macaroni! He rebuilt a monster of an interdimensional portal, he ate himself out of a car trunk, he...he was fucking Mr. Mystery! Wait a minute. Stanley Caryn (don’t ask) Pines wanted to defend himself against a bent glass noodle?! His mouth snapped shut not even realizing it was open, his head still shaking back and forth. 

An opened book dropped down next to this freak of nature really, REALLY loudly. 

“Gahk, damn it!” 

Stanley turned his hearing aid down by just a little and somehow, the air around Stanford’s oldness still kind of smelled like the old... younger him as he kneeled down beside him. Of course, _he_ bent down with even more grace and without a crick in _his_ knees, the bastard. Maybe there was an advantage to running around so many dimensions for 30 years. He did look even better than Stanley on a good day which today definitely wasn’t, but this weird glass thing turned and lifted the top half of its body even higher towards Book 2. 

“Stanley, meet the Cubitum Serpentibus otherwise known here in America as an Elbow Snake.” Well, he wasn’t too far off as Stan looked down at a drawing of a long and even bigger see-through snake. 

There was Ford’s familiar handwriting pointing out its anatomy but mostly with a few question marks as well as a few notes in the margins. He didn’t remember seeing _this_ in the books, looking back towards this Elbow Snake-thing kinda deflating downwards. It was just too hard to look at that swoopy penmanship after staring at it for over 30 years and Stanford’s sitting down next to him also didn’t help much either as something punched him in the chest _really_ hard. 

“Northwest cousin of the Iuncturam Serpentibus,” Ford’s hand swooped down to the open pages, “the infamous Joint Snake of the American South so revered, legend has it P.T. Barnum put out a reward for anyone to catch one in his time. It’s truly an honor, ah, I... I’m afraid I didn’t get your name—” 

“It’s no problem at all, I’m just amazed you know what we are!” 

“Believe me, it’s entirely my pleasure! I’m Stanford, this is Stanley.” 

He couldn’t help but seethe. 

Stanford didn’t even necessarily say his name in any bad way, but the fact that he _could_ say his name out loud so easily just got under Stanley’s skin. 

“Nth.” 

“What?” Stan’s head snapped back towards this weird V-shaped thing a little too quickly. 

“My name is Nth!” 

“Heh, it’s not uncommon, Stanley, for the many pieces of the Cubitum Serpentibus to adopt the syllables of a full given name and only going by that full name when they coalesce altogether. The maximum pieces usually range from 6 to 10 and what little has been documented says that the Joint Sna—” 

“If it’s alright with you, Mr. Stanford,” and the macaroni snake was a little harder to see as the floor went a little darker underneath him...it...whatever’s see-through body, “We don’t like talking about or being compared with the Joints, i-i—” and if it was possible for a V-shaped piece of tubed glass to look sad, the top half of the snake but not-snake deflated towards the floor all over again, “it’s a very long and difficult story.” 

“I understand, Nth,” six fingers hovered not too far away from the one out of the how many elbows it took to make a full elbow snake. Heh, that sure did sound like the beginning to a good-bad joke. But Stanford’s now older voice did sound a little more pensive than usual and there was that steak and eggs sensation all over again. Stan could do nothing but shake his head. 

Gravity Falls was always weird but this was weirde...wait, is there a stronger word for weirder?! 

“Now!” Ford’s deeper tone brightened up a little louder as he stood up while grabbing the journal, “There’s only 3 hours until full astronomical twilight, so I suppose we should get going! NthwouldyoubeoffendedifStanleycarriedyou? MyhandswouldbeverybusyIwouldliketowriteeverythingwelearnaboutyoudown! Stan, Stanley—” 

“Uh?” 

Stan was being hoisted up by six fingers at one of his shoulders. 

“Well, it may not be adventure on the high seas but it’s something!” 

Stan just stood there a little dazed. What exactly was happening?! 

Those same six fingers clutched at his tie and yanked him through the gift shop exit. 

Who was this guy and what had he done to his brother?! 

* 

Stanford almost felt guilty for relishing in the smell of the pine trees. 

He genuinely took the smell for granted when he relocated to Gravity Falls, always being used to plastic Christmas trees. There was the Christmas of 1953 when an eight-year-old Stanley decided to sneak an air freshener into the family tree just for him. But every time they left the living room, he always grabbed it from its hiding place so Filbrick wouldn’t get mad for whatever reason. That awful man was really always a time bomb and not even a person worth considering in this incredible forest of pine trees and all the weird and wonderful beings inside it! The Black Forest in Germany’s fairy tales _still_ couldn’t challenge Gravity Falls’s own nameless forest! 

One boot lifted off the step before Stanford thought to scan the grass underneath him, worried he might have accidentally stepped on one of Nth’s relatives. His house may have been a mess of a tourist trap, but the expansion was impressive and the surrounding lawn _very_ well-kept. But if Stanford still knew Stanley at all, _that_ knucklehead wasn’t the one doing the yard work as he stopped right there feet away from the “gift shop” exit. 

“Well, Guh is the head and the oldest out of all of us, so they and As know more about where we come from. I’m a newer regeneration who came from In.” 

Nth was thankfully nice and safe in Stanley’s palm who, quite frankly, looked like the time Stanford managed to clock him one during those horrible boxing lessons. He could actually feel the ends of his mouth fighting a huge grin. Ley never even saw it coming and fell right down on his ass so stunned and— 

No, wait, no. 

This was _not_ how this worked. 

All of his memories felt even more aggressive since returning to 46’\\. Every time Ford quit the basement, he was either overwhelmed by L... _Stan_ ley or the smaller house as he knew it full of fear and paranoia and Bill or an angry or excited Fiddleford with all of his silly colloquialisms. Heck, a minute ago he really did just quote one of them, didn’t he?! 

Regret swung at his chest like a baseball bat just thinking about good ol’ McGucket. 

Fidds must have forgotten all about him by now and perhaps even went back to California to work on his computers if his mind was still competent from withstanding the trans-universal gateway. Hindsight always does work like this though. Ford even now couldn’t blame his friend for quitting and he made a weird peace with that. He rightfully blamed himself instead because all of this _was_ on him. But those memories continued to have a mind of their own, remembering when Fidds introduced him to moonshine in the kitchen and how he threw up for a full 45 minutes afterwards, the exact spot down in the testing area where McGucket told him he quit. Stanford was nowhere near worthy to go up to his doorstep even with all the apologies and compassion in the world even if he wanted to and yet he strangely did! 

“Ah-and,” shook him out of his head as well as that incessant “The Official Demise of the Trans-Universal Gateway” checklist, “t-tell me how this regeneration works.” 

“W-wait a second,” Stanley finally grumbled after what felt like minutes since he grabbed at that ridiculous tie, leaping around with Nth still secure in one hand. 

Was it danger? Was it something else? Was it— 

“SOOS!” 

Stanford spun right around; his hands too employed to get to the itch at his hip. He looked down to the holster and damn it, _of course_ , he forgot his gun down in the basement! Being back in 46'\ was making him a little too relaxed _and_ edgy in some ways at the same time! But Stanley was yelling up to that young man who was with him and Sherman’s grandkids when he unknowingly returned. Stan’s employee curiously raked at a leafless lawn closer up towards the shack before it fell out of his grip, blinking like an owl out to his boss. 

“SOOS! Go drive up and down main street a few times and make sure the kids aren’t doing something dangerous. Maybe just comb over the whole town just in case!” 

“On it, Mr. Pines!” His larger hand saluted up to the bill of his baseball cap. The young man named Soos, or Jesus as he introduced himself in the basement, turned not even realizing he was stepping on the rake’s teeth and the handle came up clocking him right in the face. “Ow.” 

He stepped back to only come forward onto it all over again. 

“Ow.” 

“So, Nth.” this marvelous sparkling piece of Elbow Snake almost as wide as Stanley’s palm turned to meet his gaze, Stanley’s employee finally running past the rake handle and around the house, “How _does_ a Cubitum Serpentibus regenerate exactly?” 

“Guh and As would know more than I do, but as I understand it, the both of them are kind of like our parents. Pieces of them try to meet one another but end up creating more pieces like us in the middle. I’m the fifth, so I guess you could almost call me the middle child.” 

“I feel you there, Nth” Stanley mumbled. 

Stanford pinched his lips together, keeping himself from smiling. 

Perhaps the burden of these superimposed emotions, or maybe just stagnant old age, were ultimately becoming debilitating now being back in 46'\\. The anger that made him punch his own brother was starting to lose steam and feeling more like a numbing impression weighing down and yet hovering right above his chest and shoulders. Ford had actually slept more in these past three days than the last thirty years and _that_ should have been a good thing! But there were those words that taunted him into these accidental naps... 

“Look down at the bottom bunk, talk to Stan. Look down at the bottom bunk, talk to Stan.” 

But he communicated with Stanley in his head too many times on the opposite side of the gateway and now is now and bogged down with so much baggage Stanford couldn’t even begin to disentangle! Hindsight _is_ always like this! It’s one thing to be proud and yet... 

Ford could only wake up from atrocious dreams and yet-not dreams full of guilt and a nagging knot in his chest. He couldn’t help but feel guilty over how everything unfolded between the two of them, guilty for even waking up and reentering that established cycle of emotional fatigue and unrelenting Bill-trauma all over again. 

“Fascinating” sounded further away from himself as Ford quickly wrote down as much as he could on his notepad. 

Guh and As had to be genetic magnets of some kind, something in their DNA affixing to one another’s bodies and somehow fashioning even more beings in between them! It seemed that only a headpiece would do this in devising the rest of its body, but a dominant tail as well? But this was Gravity Falls! He moved here precisely for its weirdness! This was a brilliant surprise and Stanford was going to savor this break as much as he could. Adrenaline even started pumping the way it used to. Maybe he did warrant just a tiny reprieve in being so close to finishing obliterating the gateway as a mostly mute Stanley Pines just stood right there holding up one hand in the air like Lurch from “The Munsters.” Stanford had to pinch his lips together all over again, “Now, how do we find the rest of your family exactly, Nth? Do you have some kind of protocol?” 

“We usually shine our prisms against the sun, Κος Stanford, b-but with it almost going down,” and poor Nth shook right there on Stan’s palm, “and n-not knowing where everyone is, we’re all done for! W-we can’t stay separate for longer than ten minutes otherwise Guh and As will die first and the rest of us would have no way to survive!” 

Ford felt himself crouch down to his old “high six” partner to look Nth straight in the... well, not eyes, but however a middle fragment perceived sight. A hand lifted like it did before comforting the poor fifth child but not-child of the Cubitum Serpentibus, Stanford feeling a little tremor against his own mouth. He understood that survival panic too, too well. 

“Don’t worry, Nth. We will find a way t—” Edison’s light bulb hit him between the eyebrows and sparked deep into both oculi as he slowly rose back up, “Oh, Great Newton!” 

He knew how to literally fix this! 

“Care to share with the class, Sixer?” 

He fought from closing his eyes and cringing, completely unable to tolerate that nickname anymore.

Every time Stan called him that in these past three days, it felt like Bill Cipher was leering at him in his own dimension. Bill with all of his compliments and insults and demands and gateway instructions. There was the whole waking up after being mentally tortured and comprehending his whole wounded body. No man could hate himself as much as Ford did, but Bill Cipher’s evils were definitely _not_ over. Maybe he didn’t even have the right to take this reprieve, the dream demon had to be stopped at _all_ costs and quickly, but grade school science class _also_ flashed before his eyes. The cardboard box lined with black construction paper, the toilet paper roll appendage inserted between a cut-out circle in the cardboard wall, and a piece of glass. Oh, this was going to be brilliant and even a little fun! Ford _did_ deserve to block out the noise for just a little while! 

“No time, Ley, I’m going to go grab a few things,” and he darted up the lawn, going straight for the "gift shop" entrance, “just stay right there and don’t move!” 

* 

“I have dealt with some weird shit in my day, Ford, but I think this takes the cake,” Stan grunted as he adjusted an easel-framed hand mirror to face down then sliding it across the currently untied banner off the gift shop’s roof. How _was_ Stanley doing heights again?! 

There was nothing to even blame this on but how scared that weird glass thing was for its “family” and that look on Stanford. Well, look _s_ . As if the excited ten-year-old look was enough, that solemn pain he was just wearing while comforting this thing called “Nth” near killed him. Now there was else nothing to care about except to help his brother even if he wasn’t “the smart one” according to that dumb long sparkly piece of bent macaroni. What did _it_ know?! It didn’t even have eyes or a mouth! How the hell did it talk exactly?! 

But here he was folded over the top of the gift shop roof and not entirely regretting it. 

“Stanley!” Stanford hollered once he made it up the one side by way of trash can with a huge stick in one hand, “What are you doing, I thought you were afraid of heights!” 

“Yeah well, so did _I_ until I punched a pterodactyl a few weeks ago.” 

“Wait, what?!” 

“Heh, yeah, that’s what I said to myself,” Stan laughed before his stomach literally hit the deck and knocking the wind out of him as he inched a little closer to the front then grabbing at the banner under the wind vane, “Oof. You know, I have dealt with some weird shit in my day, Ford, but I think this takes the cake” and with a good push, the mirror slid over one of his lesser monstrous masterpieces. It hovered right over a very stunned looking Stanford and 1/5th of a snake in his hand as they did a double take to each other before looking back up at him. 

“I think punching a pterodactyl would win that award, knucklehead!” 

As far as Stan knew, there was no dust up here and a little irritation slid right out of one eye almost blurring his re-knotting the banner to the roof exit’s door handle this time. But it wasn’t like Ford could see things from a distance, or could he? A little vertigo swam the back lawn miles underneath him and making him dizzy or was it the other way around? Stanley just grabbed the long stick balancing at the top of the roof’s deck and adjusting the mirror just underneath where the sun was now per Stanford’s instructions. 

Heh, knucklehead. 

Damn it, he missed hearing that nickname! Stanford discovered the word in one of his nerd books when he was five and Stanley had never heard the end of it until... 

Until. 

And there was that heart attack he had while standing at Ford’s booth all over again. It was still a little too vivid, Stanley remembering how he sweated straight through his T-shirt and his hands shook so hard, he dropped the bag of toffee peanuts right there in the gym. He lied to the kids; he was definitely not as fine as he painted himself to be and to be _completely_ honest, he was a total wreck! Stan _hated_ not saying anything to his own twin and best friend just to pause Filbrick’s abuse for a little while longer while also being a _little_ jealous of the science _and_ terrified that Filbrick would have a field day on him for the rest of his life! 

Maybe the jerk did him a favor. 

But after those fateful words for him to “get out,” Stan just couldn’t afford to “overthink” all of it. He had to move past it (or really just bury everything for the time being) and especially when he had to find a job and come up with somewhat edible food for the next 48 hours! But now? Sure, the sweat and the heart attack would always be a little too real, but in recent years Stanley couldn’t stop thinking about how a very pissed off Stanford didn’t even push pause on _his_ own anger to fight for _him_ that night. Sure, Ford was allowed to be mad but he also knew how Stan had to tiptoe around everything when it came to Filbrick with or without his nerd machine getting in the way! 

No, wait. 

Stop. 

This was only something he could afford to think about before falling asleep or at least what little he _did_ get nowadays. 

His grip had a little more of a shake to it than usual as Stanley threw the stick down this side of the roof before slipping down the other. Ford could take the mirror back down himself although it would be kind of funny to leave it up and watch Mabel jump up and down trying to get a good look into it. But the trash can lid clanged against his dress shoes instead of the other way around as they dangled off the side of the gift shop. 

“Huh?” 

And there was Stanford holding either side of the lid and guiding it down like some kind of makeshift elevator as Stanley looked over one shoulder. He wasn’t grinning the “off to the Stan-o-War, Ley" smile, but the ends of his mouth tweaked up a little. It was an adult kind of smile and it looked way too amused for being the guy who just punched him a few days ago. Ford guided the cover onto the ground and Stan immediately whipped around. 

“OK, OK, OK,” his hands came up like they were batting off flies as he stepped off the trash lid. Stanley habitually slammed it down on the can and his higher pitched hearing aid practically vibrated right down into his molars. 

“So, please explain to me” and Stan followed his brother back to the backyard, the sky in this direction slowly turning pink and orange, “what it is we’re doing here?” That “we” came out a little more choked than he would have liked. 

Ford literally dragged him into the situation, but hey, it would suck for any kind of animal or thing to be estranged from the family it actually wanted to be around! At least Fordwas the one who re-knotted the other end of the banner to a pine tree closer to the backyard. 

“Newton’s Prism Experiment, Stanley!” Stanford gasped right out although not without a little of that Mr. Smarty Pants tone, his arms moving all over the place like they used to when in a completely nerdy state of science. It was way too easy to slide back into being even more bitter as Stan quietly sighed and feeling his arms cross over his chest all over again. Even after a few days of this being the new _almost_ -normal, it was honestly starting to feel a little stupid. But Mabel’s idea of hugging it out was just a little _too_ easy for this insane amount of baggage! How would _she_ feel if Dipper gave up on her the way Stanford gave up on him? “Between the experiment and Nth’s body, a dome-like shape of spectral light would double the attraction to the rest of their family! But this is only the beginning, Stanley!” 

“Of course, it is,” sighed out from somewhere even deeper in his throat. 

If Stan knew any better, Ford was walking in towards him as he chuckled. 

Something was being pushed up against his chest and falling into his palms, Stanley nearly doubling over just from Stanford’s arm strength. Bulked up nerd arms were definitely a development he didn't expect after 30 years, but the little not-shove _also_ reminded him way too much of the fight before Ford floated through the portal. His looked down to something shining straight into his eyes before they slammed shut. 

“I figured we could use some of the reject crystals that didn’t quite have the extreme voltage I required for a comparison experiment with the breed in the forest. But don’t worry, when we manipulate them, they won’t have the same properties.” 

Stanley’s eyes shot right open, his summer allergies immediately flaring up all over again. 

“Wait a minute, we?!” 

“Of course, knucklehead!” Stanford blew out a little more exasperated and rolling his eyes before looking over to that glass macaroni as it sat on the back porch, “Nth, would you like to relocate to the stool now? The upper portion of the mirror that is pointing to the sun will reflect down towards you and _you_ will reflect up to _it_ refracting into your spectral light! Stanley...” 

Stan didn’t even realize his head was shaking all over again, but Ford looked pretty damned happy as he turned to look at him straight in the eyes. Stanford always was a little more confident in that nerdy state of science. He even moved a little differently as spectacles met spectacles. 

“This will be a little more laborious on our part, Stanley, but we will place these crystals to the sides of Nth’s projection and then when the spectrum refracts into _ours_ , we will stretch them out and create a kind of spectral radius!” 

Great, more minutes of having to directly look into this guy’s face. 

Stan didn’t mind and yet he did all at the same time. 

“Well,” both hands tossed right up in the air, the grass ruffling just at the bottom of his glasses, “you _are_ still the brainiac, I guess.” 

“Mr. Stanley, would you help me up, please?” squeaked just inches from the tips of his shoes. 

Stanford was sorta chuckling again. 

This was getting nothing short of ridiculous, but it was a little easier to see this thing in the grass where it bent the blades down. Stan bent right over picking up the smooth piece of snake. Weird, weren’t snakes supposed to be scaly? Nothing could really surprise Stanley anymore as he laid the sparkly V-shaped thing called “Nth” against the top of the stool not entirely sure if he positioned it right. But one half lifted itself up into the air then slowly leaned the rest of its kind-of body backwards. Somehow, it just popped right up to stand on its... hindquarters? 

The air between the thing called Nth and the mirror slowly turned into rainbows. 

“Holy Houdini” fell right out of his mouth. 

And just on the other side of this vertical rainbow, Stanford was grinning even more like he did while they used to work on the Stan-O-War. Stanley’s chest immediately tightened up and looked everywhere else but back at that smile. 

* 

It worked! 

_Of course_ , it worked! 

Well, the _first_ half of this adapted Newton’s Prism Experiment worked as Nth’s spectral light illuminated the air between the overhead mirror and its own body. The upper torso before its Olecranon-like bend glimmered with its own refraction and the scales on its side reflected the slowly setting sun. Stanford ached to take notes, but there was no time. No time! What would he give to really investigate the entire Cubitum Serpentibus , but after the disaster with the shape shifter, it was presumably best to leave all the last of their kinds permanently alone inferring the Cubitum Serpentibus _was_ essentially extinct given its rarity. There just wasn’t enough recorded about the Cubitum or its cousin and this genuinely would prove to be both enjoyable and illuminating! Ford was starting to feel a little more like his old self. 

“Holy Houdini!” 

Ford couldn’t fight the smile on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

It wasn’t too remarkable his brother would maintain showmen in high regard like that, a pretty stunned-looking Stanley blinking over to him from the opposite side of the short foot stool. But he couldn't quite get rid of the grin as instantaneously as he would have liked and Stan started looking everywhere else on this side of the lawn _but_ back at him. The smile finally flattened. Stanford didn’t even try to prevent the sigh already coming out. What kind of man couldn’t even look his own brother, his _twin_ brother, in the eye?! But if _that_ was true, Stanford Pines was a hypocrite, another sigh breathing out even more defeated as he clutched the round angular crystal. If memory served, this was test subject 304, the South African Whialcolite. 

“Alright!” materialized a little brighter than expected as Ford strode closer to the prismatic pillar, his other hand ushering Stanley to stand opposite him at the head of the experimental area closer to the house while he advanced to the foot. “So, we’ll hold both of ours to either side of the reflection,” Stanford heard himself carefully draw out as he deposited the Whialcolite up against the bright spectral hues, “and...” then pulling it away a little further, the crystal seized just enough of Nth’s communication power. Ford heard himself gasp in pure delight but still from a distance, “Fantastic! Now we just have to get down a little lower and circle around Nth and their spectrum!” 

“Yeah, uh, OK.” 

“Is anything the matter, Stanley?” 

“Nope,” the tassel of his fez whipped to the other side, “nothing!” 

Stan smiled that enormous “I swear, I’m not lying” smile all over his gritted teeth with that almost-deadened look people get in their eyes when they smile too wide. Ford did never like that about people, his endurance for it now being even smaller than when he was a child. But it was an exceptional thing his "Stan-tuition" still worked? That old knucklehead at last drew his own piece of Whialcolite into Nth’s reflection, the rock scintillating against the apprehending light as he transported it back out. 

Those bushy eyebrows practically lifted right up to the top of that preposterous fez of his. 

“Heh, now _this_ is cool!” 

There was the brother Stanford knew and loved! 

Stanley wildly thrust the Whialcolite everywhere in front of him like some kind of lit-up Newton’s cradle, a little refraction shining the inceptions of barely-there prisms from side to side as they grew stronger. 

“Should we, uh,” and Ley looked up from the crystal through nervous eyelashes, never looking more like the ten-year-old him in a weaker moment, “Sh-should we just trade these things off or do our own laps around this thing?” 

“Hm,” fingers reached for the bristles on his chin, Stanford feeling even more like the abnormality scientist he deserved to be and _not_ a dimension hopper, “trading off _would_ be easier!” It would have been too easy to shoot a quick dig at Stanley’s needing a few laps of the running kind. He really did have no idea how to talk to his own brother anymore! A little something like disgrace penetrated his stomach and there was the memory of Bill impersonating Stanley stabbing him with a kitchen knife in his mindscape. 

Ford stood even taller now as his shoulders inched towards his earlobes. 

“Oh hell, we’re old men now, Poindexter! I think we’re allowed.” 

Ford rolled his eyes in reply, shoulders sagging only by a little bit. 

“Alright! Well then—” 

“H-hold on” and Stanley Caryn (honestly, don’t ask) Pines walked sideways and stood right in front of him at what turned out to be the foot of the Nth’s spectral reflection. 

“Well,” he clearly gulped with a little of that worried enthusiasm against his huge smile and handing the Whialcolite over to Ford, “There you go, Poindexter!” 

It was good to hear _that_ nickname again! 

A tight-lipped smile passed his rock right back. It _did_ start to look like this half of the experiment would come out looking like the beginnings of a circle as intended! Stanford felt a little more like himself before Bill, before Fidds entered the gateway, heck, perhaps even more like that teenage version of himself when in A.P. high school science class... before the Perpetual Motion Machine broke. 

Stanley was correct, it _did_ stop functioning and the lesser than average screws Stanford had to use for the vent certainly didn't help either. But anger is like survival panic in the minutes and hours when it first consumes you. After seething for two days straight in their... _his_ bedroom, Stanford finally got an even better look at the machine and Stanley was right. Those three words tormented him as much as “talk to Stanley” did now. Funny how his subconscious came back even louder now with the metal plate in his head! But Stanley _was_ right and it was too late to apologize. Their room felt even bigger without him, but it was too late. Ford had no idea how to contact the knucklehead! He cried into his pillow off and on for the whole weekend _and_ as quietly as he could while also scared to death Filbrick would overhear him. His twin wasn’t the only one who suffered at his hands, Stanford receiving another kind of mental and emotional abuse. He just had to somehow make something close to peace with going through life without his best friend. Once Ma started keeping track of Stanley's whereabouts, she kept sending Ford addresses on top of addresses like she somehow knew what he needed. He only avoided it even more ardently knowing she was paying attention too closely. 

But Stan was right here in front of him passing him the crystal at the head of this test area! Too much had passed between them. There was just no way to get it across to his twin that Ford wasn't being selfish when he was quite possibly the most lucid he was ever going to be for at least for that moment and then the fight down in the basement’s testing area happened. He really was going to give up all three journals, all of that research that managed to distance himself from Filbrick for those 6 years! But the fight started feeling like some kind of dream Bill would contrive for his own perverse gratification after 30 years, the substantial memory of it fading but the key points still so bright in his mind. Stanford could genuinely open his mouth right now and say anything that accrued in his own knuckleheaded mind for the past 40 years, but this was more than that Pines stubbornness. Stan already hated him and who was Ford to poke at something that may end up even worse? 

Two more sideways laps came and went, Stanley either looking down at his feet or the passing Whialcolite the entire time. He could always demand his younger twin brother to look at him although without much of an intention, but there was no way of knowing if Stanford still wielded this once great power. 

“H-how are you feeling, Nth?” He finally heard from himself but still at a distance. Perhaps Ford had been ignoring the scared Cubitum Serpentibus fragment for too long now, “I trust this isn’t exhausting you too much.” 

“Adrenaline, K-K-M-Mr. Stanford! It’s aaalll adrenaline right now.” 

The ends of his mouth couldn’t help but tweak up at the endearing tiny voice, the Whialcolite in Stanley’s left crossing to Stanford’s right and the spectrum expelling its own path. 

“Are you seeing any of your family members, Nth?” 

“F-faintly...” and the shining spectrum of Nth’s refraction jerked by a little bit, its torso shifting just enough to scan the surrounding forest, “but a rustle of bushes could be anything! You know what, you guys, I’m just going to say it. Why are the both of you so sad right now?” 

Stanford wasn’t saying a word. 

Stanley just scrunched up his nose as they finally met at the foot of the experiment for what felt like the millionth time in what felt like ten minutes. Ford shook at his coat and turtleneck sleeve enough to acknowledge his intergalactic watch, the prisms trembling in front of him. 

It had only been three minutes. 

“OK, the two of you need some serious therapy!” 

“Shaddap, pipsqueak.” 

Ford couldn’t help but snort as his boots side-stepped back up to the head and trading off the Whialcolite in his right hand, the chromatic spectrum arching towards Stan’s left. The both of them really did still make a good team! More than one tear festered in his tear ducts this time and Stanford struggled from fighting them off. But it was Stanley who opened the gateway when he explicitly instructed him not to, Stanley would be the one who to precipitate an apocalypse that would impoverish this planet and their extended family _and_ all of its weird and wonderful science, _Stanley_ _actually_ _took_ _his_ _identity_! But this was the price of not really knowing his brother that well, Stanford unable to meet his face on the opposite side of this vertical spectral light. They were even walking in sync like they used to. 

Damn it. 

Damn it. 

Damn it! 

“Stan, I think it’s time to get lower.” 

“Yeah, OK.” Stanley crouched and two loud crunchy pops were loud from the other side of the... hmm, what should Stanford title this experiment? But with those sounds coming from Stan, a little cringe couldn’t quite help itself. 

Age really did start to feel like an abstract after 30 years of jumping from dimension to dimension and hiding from Bill Cipher as Ford would sometimes attempt to keep track of earth time just to ground himself. There was all of that dumb hope that the memory Stanley would confirm to be just as much of an anchor as his physical presence was. But at the same time, it _was_ a memory of an anchoring physical Stanley who ruined him... but _not_ ruined him? If it weren’t for Backupsmore, Stanford wouldn’t have gone into anomalies and enjoyed those first six years here in Gravity Falls! 

They _really_ were 57 in this dimension! 

Everything really was falling into something close to normal for Gravity Falls now back in 46'\\. Stanford _did_ feel even more in his skin rather than incessantly switching between bodily and mindful survival for years on end! It _did_ explain the occasional distance between his voice and ears. But physical sensation didn’t entirely feel right most of the time, the exterior inundating Ford’s skin always correlating to Bill and every abominable thing about Stan and their parents. 

But there was that brightly lit species right in front of him, Stanley passing his solid Whialcolite into Stanford’s right hand. Even his own knees quietly grinded in their squat as they inched sideways to the head of the... Cubitum Serpentibus Variation on Newton’s Prism Experiment? Was that anything? 

"Oof,” Stanley whispered as he looked down to his lap, “this is poetic justice from earlier, boys.” 

“Stan, are you _actually_ talking to your knees right now?!” Ford smirked way too easily at this and there was no stopping it as Stan rolled his eyes still not looking directly back at him. 

“Hey,” his other hand flipped up into the air in a better natured defense, “I had to talk to myself a lot for these past 30 years, OK?!” 

“You two really have a lot of unresolved issues, don’t you?” 

Stanford almost wholeheartedly laughed for the first time in years, perhaps even decades! Stanley just huffed as his own knees creaked back to the foot of the experiment area. He always _did_ prefer to give all talking creatures the benefit of the doubt, but it was a little too difficult to not be affected by Nth’s tiny squeaking voice slightly garbling like a whistle under water so point-blank like this. This was something to remember about a Cubitum Serpentibus’s speech during its transmission process! 

“But I _do_ see a little bend in the grass over there, Mr. Stanford.” Ford near ran up his half of the circumference still in this crouch. Maybe he did feel a little guilty for putting Stanley through this, his own legs and quadriceps were going to feel it just as badly tomorrow! 

“We got this, Ley!” and a tremendous bright smile grinned right into the wide whites of his brother’s eyes and this time, a stooped-over Stan wasn’t staring at his Whialcolite or shoes. 

Dumbfounded large bushy eyebrows nearly hit the top of that fez all over again. 

Ford’s mouth fell open, recognizing the nickname that came right out of it. Of course, Stanley must not have heard it in over 40 years, the particularity of numbers and breadth of time punching him right in the metal plate. But why was his brother wearing Filbrick’s fez of all things when he absolutely hated the man?! 

A squeak that didn’t sound like Nth was coming from the porch door. 

If Ford knew any better, it sounded like a pig... 

* 

Gah, fucking Waddles! 

And Stanley was still in this godawful squat as he turned towards the porch finding that dumb pig in the back doorway. Just out of the corner of one eye, Stanford looked back almost at the same time and it took it took every ounce of _both_ eyes to not get allergic to the... pig! The pig! Fucking Waddles. Seriously, _how_ does that fucking pig manage to open and close doors without Mabel around?! But after 40 years, _that_ was something close to that good ol’ Pines twin power. Maybe. They hadn’t even been around each other much in these last few days unless the shack’s layout had some kind of absorbing power connecting them between floors! 

That was dumb. 

_That_ was something Ford would hypothesize. 

Shit. 

_This_ was what a guy got after working on a big science-y portal for too long! 

“Oh, no!” garbled right out from behind him. 

“Oh, fudge!” Stanford’s eyes were wide just off of that same eye corner, one of his temples already sweating like something was going to be a disaster. Stanley could almost feel his brother’s anxiety rising on his own forehead. 

“What?!” he finally stood back up like none of that panic was even there, everything from the thighs on down creaking, “Hot Belgian waffles, ow!” 

“Pigs _eat_ snakes, Mr. Stanl—” 

“EEEE!” 

And Waddles clopped out onto the porch breathing heavily, his wide eyes looking straight at that tiny rainbow maker. This guy must’ve got his freaked out but fascinated gene from his human mother or something. 

“Yeah, but you’re technically a _piece_ of snake, buddy!” Stan’s free hand raised up in that usual thinking shrug of his, “if you’re _really_ made out of glass, you’d only cut the inside of Waddles’s mouth! That gives you a, heh, edge.” 

OK, that one was a little too easy! 

“Oh, Stanley,” Stanford groaned into that one ear. 

That dumb pig’s snout sniffed the air once then twice as he kept staring between the both of them right at that sassy beer bottle. Maybe the pig was just enamored with the rainbow and didn’t even see that “Nth” guy! Ah, who was he kidding?! 

His brother stood back up while actually and physically faceplanting with his one free hand, the other still holding the crystal to the vertical rainbow. 

“HRRMMPHHmmm,” Waddles sang the song of his people right out to that piece of macaroni. 

“Al-alright, fine” and Ford's anxiety started to really pump in his veins, Stan not missing _this_ part of being a twin. He wildly shrugged even higher into the air and here was Stanley Caryn (yeah, ok, whatever) Pines completely panicking just because of a few beads of sweat on _Stanford_ ’s forehead. Why did _this_ always have to happen?! “FINE! I’ll just lock the door on h—Oh Great Barnum!” 

“HUFF!” 

“Waddles, _what_ are you doing?” 

“EE! EE?” 

Hooves clopped down one of the steps like some kind of Dutch clog dancer (don’t ask how Stan knows this kind of a comparison!), both of those curious beady eyes still staring at “Nth.” 

Pop! 

Creak! 

And there were his bad knees jumping between a possible choking hazard and an abnormally hungry pig. This leap sideways might have hurt even worse than standing up! Wait a minute, he was defending … the … snake ... or really just one out of the how many elbows it took to _make_ an elbow snake?! This really was getting even more ridiculous! It didn’t really help that Stanford kept standing right beside him doing absolutely nothing! 

The back of Waddles’s throat grunted, his wet snout slightly wiggling while sniffing at the air between him and this rainbow-making piece of snake. The pig couldn’t have known that it was just a _piece_ of snake, right?! 

“Come on, Sixer, do something!” 

Stanford’s eyes went abnormally large under those thick glasses of his, Stanley about five seconds away from tearing his hair out. One of his shoes readied to kick at Mabel’s pet soft enough for Waddles to get the hint. But Ford still looked next to frozen standing right beside him with one arm still maintaining his dum—OK, _not_ dumb but kind of a cool and important experiment at the moment _if_ the test subject wasn’t about to become a pig’s dinner! 

“W-what are you doing, Stanford? Do something!” 

“STANLEY!” and he practically jumped out of his skin at the volume, Ford’s free hand gesturing towards the crystal he still held up to "Nth”’s reflection, “If you haven’t noticed we don’t have that much time until civil twilight! One of us has to stay here an—” 

“Well then _I’ll_ do it!” 

“Stanl—” 

“I... I, hey, guys?” 

“Hey, you deal with creatures all the time, here’s a normal one for ya! Now...” he grabbed Stanford’s crystal with even less pickpocketing finesse but still with perfect showmanship, “Ha!” Stan rose it in the air with a huge grin, winking a challenge back at his older brother before pocketing it to just work with the one, “Try and catch me, Poindexter.” 

Waddles was officially Sixer’s problem now! 

“I... I think I hear Thi and Guh... and Li... an-and...” 

Now Ford was the one shaking his head with his mouth hanging wide open. 

And Stan was already on his umpteenth sprint around the circle, creating even faster rainbows although higher up in the air. Yep, he was doing it. He was _really_ doing it although Mabel was going to kill him for not taking care of Waddles first, but there was something about this elbow-spaghetti-whatever piece of snake noodle. Its darker rainbow was shaking. Of course, the mirror needed adjusting just as Stanley advanced on the stick he used on the roof at the top of this circle, but Stanford was already grabbing it and getting the pig’s attention like he was a dog. Waddles actually bought it! The stick sailed right through the mysteriously opened back door and Waddles went after it, a brown blur of trench coat running up the stairs and locking it from the inside. 

“...and Al and In and As! Oh, thank Zeus!” 

“Ford!” If a man could actually breathe an angry sigh of relief, Stanley was doing it as he bent over and clapping his palms against his knee caps.

Deep breaths, Stan, deep breaths.

Nope, he was _completely_ out of breath.

“What... _did_ you... just _do_?!” 

“What?!” Stanford nervously chuckled as he shrugged while coming back down the porch steps, “No thank you?” 

The crystal finally fell out of his hand onto the back lawn, Stanley about to gasp out an apology to that poor little glass nugget. 

But he was officially seething all over again. He was bent over gasping and catching his breath _and_ fucking seething all at the same time! What was _that_ ?! Stan’s stomach flexed out between his knees multiple times. He worked his ass off on that portal he had no business working on for 30 years if it weren’t for Stanford’s falling through, he _deserved_ a less mocking “thank you!” 

“Ford!” Stan panted out as he bent over just a little bit to pick up the crystal. 

Ow. Just... ow. 

He held out the round clear rock to the slowly disappearing stream of rainbow. 

It was going out, oh, Great Barnum, the experiment was _actually_ going out and the crystal wasn’t catching any of the light! 

And Stanford kept standing right in front of him acting like he didn’t even care! _He_ was the one who thought of the stupid experiment in the first place! Now Stanley was just plain angry as he whipped back around. 

Ford grinned that old and amused Mr. Smart-Guy grin all over his dumb stubble as he crossed arms. 

“You _just_ got rid of the _one_ thing I searched a solid five minutes for so we could adjust the mirror from down here!” Stanley managed to gasp out practically in one breath, his lungs burning like a whore in a church, “Lookit!” he gestured towards the dying out rainbow between this “Nth” kid and the mirror, the one bicep immediately retaliating against the move, “Ow! Y-you do realize your own experiment is going kaput, right?” 

“No, guys, really! We’re good!” 

“Why, Stanley!” and Stanford just kept chuckling as his arms tightened over his chest, “It sounds like you care!” 

“Shaddap, nerd,” but his ears were burning along with his lungs and hopefully his older brother wasn’t registering this. So, he cared a little bit! The poor shmuck was going to die without his family! Stan technically had been living like that for years now and Ford just kept standing in front of him chuckling that Mr. Smart-Guy chuckle with his stupid crossed coat sleeves with his stupid elbow pads. It looked good on him and Stanley felt his allergies flaring up in his eyes, but at the same time, who fucking wears a trench coat in the goddamn summer?! “I just expected you to pick up the damn pig or shove him into the house, not teach it to play stupid fetch! Newsflash, Poindexter, a pig is _not_ a dog.” 

“Um, boys?” 

“Stan,” just sounded like that belittling chuckle all over again, “W-why are you getting so defensive?” and that tiny smile all over Ford’s face leaned in a little closer. Stan's dress shoes were already walking backwards trying to dodge any more punches to his face. This really was like when they were kids all over again, Stanford having the idea and Stanley being the muscle but ending up being the one who seemed to care more about the situation after a while. But then he never really minded it as a kid, but he did but didn’t now?! And he _really_ wanted to sail the world with this bastard?! Ford went into _his_ pocket this time. 

“Ha!” and Poindexter rose his crystal up in the air as he took a step closer to the house. He almost tripped up the first porch step and Stanley’s hand immediately reached out to help but tapped the top of his fez instead. 

“No, really, guys...” 

“Besides!” Stanford gained his footing all over again, brushing both hands down either side of his trench coat a little too enthusiastically given the situation, “I don’t know Waddles’s bathing schedule, I didn’t want to get my coat dirty after finally laundering it since being in the dimension of robot washing machines a while back! I’m still 100% in this experiment with you if you are!” 

“Yeah, well, _I_ just ran about 8,000 goddamn laps and you’re just standing here!” his arms now really were angrily flying all over the place, Stanley hearing nothing but the blood in his ears, “If you really want to help out, go find a long enough stick to keep this little guy from frying up like some kind of Dracula in the morning!” 

“Well glad to know your tact is still as sharp as ever, Stanley Caryn Pines.” 

“Don’t push it, Sixer.” 

“D-don’t” and Ford’s eyes shook shut. His fist tightened around the crystal once then twice, but all Stanley could see was his brother’s knuckles.

It couldn’t happen twice in a week, right?! 

“Oh, thank Zeus, In and Al!” 

“Huh?” and Ford was saying the same thing as the both of them turned around at the same time. 

* 

“Nth! What are you doi—” “Nth, get down from th—” 

The whole lawn in front of the Cubitum Serpentibus Variation on Newton’s Prism Experiment test area looked like the end of “The Invisible Man” when Jack Griffin’s invisible footsteps appear in the snow. But instead of footprints, a head and a studded-tipped tail as well as many half sparkling sideways V-shapes bent the bright grass blades down as they moved closer to the footstool, the whole back lawn a sea of loud squeaks all talking at once. 

“Holy Houdini!” Stanley whispered this time around. 

“Come on, Nth!” “Come on, Nth, I don’t feel too good!” 

“It worked!” Stanford muttered to himself, his eyelids widening even further. 

_Of course_ , it worked! 

Nth was already toppling its translucent bent body forward on the footstool with remarkable precision before diving down onto the grass. Ford kept himself from shouting out to be careful. But he already resisted from saying so many things right back to all of these loud pieces of the Cubitum Serpentibus; how he was honored to be in their separated presence, if they were native to Oregon, how exactly did the head and tail transfer their genetic markers to one another, everything! Stanford wanted to know everything! He bit the inside of his cheek. 

Those four words _were_ what got him into the whole mess with Cipher in the first place! 

“Thanks for the help, Mr. Stanley and Mr. Stanford!” there was a little rustling noise on the other side of the footstool. Ford leaned forward just enough to discover Nth’s sparkling Olecranon joint turned the other direction like it was looking back around to him... them. “But if I can be honest again, you two should really talk. I only wish I could introduce you to everyone; but if you just count the joints, you’ll know where I am! Heh.” Nth’s high-pitched squeak nervously chuckled before indenting against a few more inches of lawn where all seven portions were already lining up behind the Cubitum Serpentibus’s very striking oval face. 

He immediately lit up. 

Stanford Pines may have seen a lot of beautiful creatures in his time, but this one was especially fascinating. Its see-through cheekbones and thin lips were entirely made out of those sparkly scale-like freckles with two slits for nostrils, its eyes tinier silver beads as they affectionately looked at Nth. The poor little guy immediately froze up just off to the head’s side. 

“Hi, Guh.” Nth sounded so sheepish, Ford’s heart slightly twisted in his chest. 

“Nth. Are you OK?” the head spoke with a deeper high-pitched tone as it inched closer. 

“Yeah” defeatedly sighed right out. 

Stanford struggled from chuckling. The fifth piece of this beautiful creature could not have sounded any more like the six-year-old version of himself getting in trouble with Ma. If Nth had a foot-like appendage, there was a good chance he would have been timidly kicking at the ground looking everywhere else but at the Cubitum Serpentibus’s face. 

“A-are you very mad at me right now, Guh?” 

“Come on, Nth!” squealed a different high-pitched timbre. 

“Yeah, Nth!” cried another, “I’m starting to get the shakes!” 

“No, not anymore, Nth,” Guh’s silver eyes closed to a thinner hem of scales, its cheekbones sparkling as it nodded to the footstool, “because you asked for help.” 

Stanford’s arms crossed over his chest again. He bit even harder into his cheek not even realizing the tears already bubbling in his eyes. 

“Thank you for getting us all back together, Nth, but we really should—” 

“Guh” and the fifth out of those seven diaphanous pieces turned its joint back around mostly camouflaged by the grass underneath it, “the homosapien with the long coat knows what we are!” 

Ford actually stepped forward to get an even better look this time around, the Cubitum Serpentibus’s tiny silver eyes looking directly up into his. 

He felt himself nod a single wordless nod, but he only got even dizzier from the little move. 

This was what it really used to feel like when Stanford discovered an oddity in the Gravity Falls forest as that old “reward system” feeling tingled right through him. He almost missed this, but guilt immediately slapped hard between his shoulder blades. Ford _did_ get that exact same sensation when Bill Cipher first appeared to him. But then how was he to understand how Gravity Falls came to be a magnet for anomalies so Ford himself or other scientists in the future could prevent even more dangerous curiosities from happening?! 

He was also a lot more verbose towards a newly discovered _earthly_ specimen, but it had been far too long and a little of that frustration rendered him a little speechless. The dark charcoal gray of civil twilight inched closer to the above mirror, Ford missing the cricket sounds of his childhood. 

A second shuffle of feet stepped forward beside him. Stanford’s pupils burned as they resisted closing. Maybe _this_ was why he couldn’t get the words out as easily. This was, after all, a second pair of feet who couldn't even deduce that that “Sixer” nickname clearly bothered him just from Ford’s own body language, a second pair of feet who made him remember screaming “Stanley, do something!!” as the gateway’s energy sucked him in. He really said that, how _could_ he forget saying something like that?! Then coming back through to punch Stan the way he di —no wait, no. With or without an incentive or a “do something,” that second pair of feet should _not_ have even _thought_ of opening it back up just for him when Ford explicitly told him not to! 

“Great Zeus, it’s _him_!” Guh’s lower jaw dropped, its thin forked tongue sliding out looking to Nth then back up at Ford. Those detailed eyelid-like hems widened until they revealed the whole circumference of those silver orbs, “it’s the Weirdist! OK, OK,” the many parts of the Cubitum Serpentibus started yelling so many questions, the inaudible squeaking noises near grating as the head turned around to the rest of its body, “quick, align everyone! We’ll all talk to him together, just don’t talk over one another, please!” 

Stanford _had_ to write all of this down, but he was completely glued onto this magnificent creature! 

Nth quickly slithered to the open space between the fourth and sixth piece as everyone finally quieted down, Guh turning back around with a little shake of its head. The fifth out of the seven pieces of the Cubitum Serpentibus shot up as far as its Olecranon-like joint then waving from side to side directly back at him. He smiled right back. Out of one corner of his eye, Stanley raised one hand up in something like a wave. 

Stanford fought yet another chuckle. 

Whether he liked it or not, Stanley cared but just not for _him_. 

Those striking silver eyes closed. It almost looked like a signal as every piece of its body lit up with their individual illuminations before all of the pieces moved even closer in to one another. Thin seams of reflection turned into refraction and refraction into dispersion and in a matter of seconds, the whole integrated Cubitum Serpentibus lit up in the brightest spectral light Stanford had seen this whole early evening! The head tilted back and its mouth opened, revealing clear and narrow fangs. Its long glassy tongue slid out with a loud territorial hiss as those conjoining spectrums started retreating back into those once seams and camouflaging against the darker-lit green grass all over again. Something light hinged at his shoulder. But Stanford had to get all of this down on paper; how the communication device also served as an agglutination, how it seemed all of the Cubitum Serpentibus’s pieces seemed to also speak through the head when fully conjoined! 

No wait, stop, Stanford Pines, you can write this down later, you big nerd! 

Just watch and enjoy this! 

“Ssso, you’re the Weirdissst!” boomed right out. 

“GLAGH!” 

Whatever hinged at Ford’s shoulder dropped and there was Stan out of the corner of his eye nearly jumping out of his skin at the loud and deep voice. His lips pinched together, their ends fighting from lifting any higher. This was yet another thing he had to write down, many high-pitched voices amalgamating altogether into one much lower resonating one. This was truly extraordinary! 

“I am” Stanford nodded again, but his words still came out even further away from himself, “and you are?” 

“My, or rather, _our_ name is Galinthiasss, named after the ssservant who oversssaw the birth of Herculesss.” 

“It’s an honor,” and a palm hit the texture of his turtleneck at his chest, honorably bending toward what had to have been such a rare specimen. With his experience, Ford could almost tell, “Galinthias, but may I ask why you call me the Weirdist? I have never heard anyone call me that before.” 

The Cubitum Serpentibus chuckled deeply as it slithered toward the footstool. 

“All of the creaturesss in the foressst call you thisss,” Galinthias’s face slowly appeared over the bright brown seat, the rest of its zig-zagged and occasionally twinkling translucent body rising to coil around one another as if to sit on top of the once-Cubitum Serpentibus Variation on Newton’s Prism Experiment test area. Stanley took a step back towards the porch just out of that same eye corner. A few scales on those Olecranons and cheekbones sparkled pink and orange, the sunset shining right down from the mirror like a kind of spotlight on this magnificent creature and _this_ magnificent creature creating many different refractions in the air above it, “Everyone familiar with you hasss wondered where you have been, Weirdissst.” 

“W-well,” Stanford heard himself laugh and cough at the same time, a hand raising to the beginnings of sweat not entirely from his turtleneck or the current summer season at the back of his neck, “I-it’s a long story, Galinthias. I would like to know more about _you_ though. Are you native to Oregon?” 

“We are not, Weirdissst.” 

“Please, my name is Stanford Pines.” 

Stanley conveniently and loudly cleared his throat. 

Stanford kept himself from rolling his eyes, but he was already smiling. 

“An-and this is,” a hand gestured in his brother’s direction, “my brother, Stanley.” 

But Stan’s arms were still wound tight over his lapels despite wanting the recognition of helping, his jaw practically unhinged from their mandibles but nothing was coming out. Ford choked down yet another chuckle. Stanley was always never without words and usually a cynic to these kinds of things. But as to how could a Gravity Falls resident be a cynic after all this time, Stanford didn’t know. He didn’t even _want_ to imagine Stanley’s response to his initial decision to study anomalies! 

“And isss your brother a mute?” 

“No, no,” Ford heard himself chuckling between his words, that same hand actually lifting to slap between his brother’s shoulder blades. Stanley’s mouth finally snapped shut with a loud crack, his eyes still as wide as saucers. Wait a minute— “j-just shocked. Heh, I... I’m sure the both of us would like to know how you came to be here in Gravity Falls.” 

“Of course! It ssstarted on the Greek island of Sssarpedon a very long time ago when _my_ great-grandmother,” Guh nodded as if acknowledging it was speaking for itself and not for the whole body, its scaly cheekbones twinkling a newly formed reddish-pink from the mirror, “fell from Medusssa, her hossst’sss, head when Perssseusss missssssed his firssst ssswing at her neck. This was a missssssion from King Polydectesss of Ssseriphosss to dissstract the young demi-God while he courted his mother, Danaë. Sssince my ancessstral hossst wasss turned into a horrible Gorgon creature by Athena, Parnassssssusss-blessssss her, Perssseusss had to ussse the reflection of Athena’sss very ssshield for fear of being turned into ssstone even while Medusssa ssslept. His first ssswipe was a failure, taking one ssserpent completely off the ssside of her head. My great-grandmother sssurvived and retreated as Perssseusss tried a sssecond time, only taking off half of another which had generated itsss own tail on the ssspot. That was Asss’sss,” and the Cubitum Serpentibus’s glassy beaded tail twitched up multiple times almost as if in recognition, its forked tongue sliding back into its mouth, “Great-Grandmother. At the third ssswipe, Perssseusss had all of our ancessstral hossst’sss head off and the both of our ancessstorsss huddled together in fear watching Medusssa's children, Pegasssusss and Chrysssaor, essscape from her mutilated neck.” 

“I had come from two Ouroboro cyclesss ago—” 

“When the snake eats its tail!” Stanley nearly yelled directly into one ear.

“Ha!” one of those old “high six” partners whacked between his shoulders, “I knew I knew _that_ one, Poindexter!” 

How _did_ Stan know something like that?! Ford just crossed his arms with a little smile, the sensation of his hands tucked under his elbows much more acute against his body. 

“Correct, Koç Ssstanley,” Galinthias nodded, looking incredibly regal as the upper half of its body sat up even straighter under the now reddish-pink and orange spotlight, its elbow-like joints on top of one another looking almost like a sparkly half-pyramid. But an even darker gray civil twilight tightened around the edges of the mirror. Maybe it was almost night or just the Pacific Northwest summer heat or even the sway of the Cubitum Serpentibus’s hisses, but something over the top of his body was starting to wave a little more lethargic now and Stanford could feel every second of its intensity, “Our predecessssssorsss dissscovered when we devour our tailsss, we fully regenerate into either the headsss or tailsss asss one ssseparate piece. Both of our familiesss have been ssswitching to and from one another’sss bodiesss since Medusssa’sss fall, chancesss have been good to usss at leassst until we came here to America.” 

“Yuck” Ley whispered without moving his mouth, leaning in towards one ear. 

But Galinthias’s silver eyes stared into the forest even more upset from its own words before they closed. A few of those scales at both eyelid hems twinkled that reddish-pink all over again, civil twilight narrowing that kind of-spotlight even tighter. 

An elbow actually pierced his brother’s side like they were 10-years-old and shutting one another up from saying something dumb to a teacher or Filbrick. 

“What brought you here, Galinthias?” came out much gentler and surprisingly, even closer to both of Stanford’s ears. His arms finally dropped from their crisscross and air breathed between all six of his fingers. Everything against his body felt even closer to this exact moment; a new creature to understand, the beautiful twinkling off of its glassy skin, feeling like he had and was something close to a brother once more. 

“Community, Koç Ssstanford,” that booming deep voice softened, its tiny pained beads finally opening and looking back him... them. 

“A long time ago we had heard of the Iuncturam Ssserpentibusss who ssseemed to be just like usss, glassssss-like although age mitigated Asss and myssself into what you sssee before you, and sssnuck onto a ssship to Bossston to ssseek them out. We had finally met a colony in Missssssouri who were good people until five monthsss in,” Galinthias looked down to the footstool’s seat even more upset, “They were ssscared of usss at firssst when we ssseparated from one another to breathe asss we tend to do in the sssummer. But after a while, they ssstarted to come acrossssss uncomfortable and not,” The Cubitum Serpentibus looked up and right into Stanford’s eyes, “jussst because we have the ability or ssso we believed.” 

If he had known any better, those silver eyes looked so knowingly right at him then over to Stan like Nth just ratted on the mystery twins’ unresolved issues or needing therapy or whatever. 

“There were many ssside-eyed glancesss when they thought we weren’t looking, everyone would ssstop talking when we ssslid into a congregational circle” and there were his shoes as Stanford looked down at them, a burning sensation just underneath his skin like Bill was tearing at him from the inside. 

Did Stanley feel exactly like this for the past few days?! 

Heck, was this what Stan felt like for those first few _years_ when Ford had no way to contact him to apologize for the Perpetual Motion Machine?! He started feeling a little sick, shoving a fist into a coat pocket just to steady himself. 

“Two more monthsss passssssed and Asss and myssself talked amongssst ourssselves. Although winter wasss coming, we found ourssselvesss coming up to the Pacific Northwessst jussst to be close to an ocean once more. We meant to go further towards the coassst, but we have become, ah,” the Cubitum Serpentibus chuckled, a look in its solid silver gaze looking almost as sheepish, “sssomething of a wissse old sssage to the younger creaturesss of your foressst.” 

“It is not _my_ forest, Galinthias” and Stanford narrowed his eyelids just to keep the tears from falling out. He only hoped Stanley wasn’t seeing this on his face as he fought from adding the word “anymore” to the end of that sentence. 

No, it was never really _his_. 

But if he had been by himself right now, would he have resisted this much? Ford actually physically forgot how much Stan was his anchor at times like these after having to imagine it for so long. A little self consciousness around certain people who know how to hold you up is never a _bad_ thing. But his younger twin brother hadn't technically been his anchor in over 40 years, why would he even bother now?! 

“You do not come from here, Weirdissst?” 

“No, no. I...” he turned to find Stanley looking up from his shoes at a lightning speed before whipping back to smile at the Cubitum Serpentibus as quickly as _he_ could, “we, heh, w-we, come from New Jersey.” Ford’s arms felt acutely stiff as they crossed over his chest all over again, “Not too far away from where you docked in this country, actually.” 

Galinthias slowly nodded with a little smile, the last of the reddish-orange sunset glinting off some of the scaly detail at the thin seam of its mouth. After all of the squeaking of its individual parts and Mabel’s pet pig and Stanley’s yelling, Stanford’s ears were still ringing. 

“I... I would like” came out even louder than expected cutting through all of the almost-noise. 

“Geez!” Stanley grumbled as he clapped his hands over his ears. 

Galinthias deeply chuckled. 

“Heh” and he turned back to an even darker gray silhouette of the Cubitum Serpentibus,“I w-would _like_ to talk to you more in depth sometime soon, Galinthias! I would like to learn more about your regeneration process, your dispersion into spectral light, how your pieces break apart, how your genetic magnet attracts to As’s, ev—” 

But a deep sigh fell out defeated knowing what he was about to say, Stanford sternly shaking his head in one direction. 

No, he didn’t need to know _everything_! 

But the “reward system” from just saying those words out loud _did_ make him feel a little more like a version of himself he hadn’t felt in years! At least Stanley was still out of the corner of one eye although not entirely a ballast but not entirely letting him fly right into the gateway again as that fez tassel shook from side to side, a little grin lodged in his rolling eyes. Ford felt his proverbial feet back on the ground and his molars couldn’t help but grind into one another. 

“I... I would _just_ like,” the hand in his pocket escaped to rise in Galinthias’s direction in clarification, “to be as thorough as I can in my journal entry. The Iuncturam entry only comes from what I found in a few rare books. Nth didn’t exactly seemed pleased by my having to reference a distant relative of yours to realize what _you_ were.” 

“No, we left Missssssouri on very bad termsss dessspite their protessstationsss to not go anywhere ssso close to winter. There isss no point to ssstay ssso clossse around people who treat you badly even while they have a sssmile on their face,” but this beautiful creature didn’t have a knowing look on its face this time. 

Stanford’s chest still managed to burn like one of Bill’s eye lasers darted right into it. 

Stanley didn’t exactly smile at him at any point in these last few days unless it was his usual cynically acidic grin. It wasn’t exactly surprising given the terms they ended on after standing in front of that mirror. At least there was a few jabs about Filbrick and everything felt a little like it used to, but Ford knew better! Ford _knew_ better as his spine thoughtlessly jolted by just a little bit. But if a positive and positive make a negative then... 

“But you mussst be tired after having created that beacon. Thank you for bringing usss all back together during this ssslip-up, Messssssrs. Ssstanford and Ssstanley Pinesss. Believe usss when we sssay it will _not_ happen again. Weirdissst” and an even darker silhouette of that translucent head nodded, its tail and lower body unfurling and coiling down the footstool’s back leg. Galinthias’s face started moving backwards as if under the power of an elevator in reverse as it disappeared the way it came, that deeper voice resonating in the full charcoal gray of the first stage of twilight, “We ssshould like to ssspeak to you again.” 

A flat high-pitched tone took over for the ring in his ears, but he could still hear the faint hiss of the Cubitum Serpentibus’s body slide across the manicured grass. Stanford honestly felt like he couldn’t move as he kept standing right there, something underneath his skin feeling so raw and sad and hurt and... 

Stanley kept standing right beside him and that heavily vibrating air could not have felt any thicker. 

* 

The air felt a little too thick. 

And Stanley kept staring at his shoes. Even after the back porch light automatically turned on behind him, the glare of brown leather was just as blinding. But that footstool where that massive glass snake sat was still right there, both of their shadows bookending either side of the seat. That... 

His head still shook. 

That really did just happen! After all of the dinosaurs and bottomless pits and zombies, _this_ was just as surprising?! Man, maybe Stan was ready to get out of Gravity Falls! Ford may have done him a favor kicking him out! 

“You can stay here for the rest of the summer to watch the kids. [...] But when the summer’s over, you give me my house back, you give me my _name_ back, and this Mystery Shack junk is over forever.” 

Even that was just as vivid as the night Stan got kicked out 40 years ago, every word clunking up against the back of his still amped up hearing aid feeling like he failed at really getting his brother back or at least the version of his brother he knew him as! Now there wasn’t any way of winning Stanford over even if he wanted to and especially not after today. Stanley felt totally and completely frozen although wanting to turn down his hearing aid. The one ear started picking up a tiny high-pitched buzz which didn’t really help things much either! 

He could only blame it on that Gal-guy's story about being rejected by those Midwestern snakes. Stan didn’t even see it coming and before he knew it, he was practically hunching over from its pressure and staring at his shoes like their rounded tips were going to somehow magically stop the tears already inching out of his eyes. Stanley really did feel bad for the guy even if it was a m0%$#& f@(!-ing snake. Heh, that one was too easy. 

But there was no chance in hell Ford saw the connections from the snake’s story to their own! Stan could see all of it from the way they had been avoiding each other while living under one roof to how he just couldn’t look at his brother for too long. If he kept looking, he would probably see nothing else but that geeky teenager but with gray hair and the deeper voice and maybe Stanley wasn’t so much mad but completely defeated. But it was pretty great that Ford still loved his science and wanted so badly to be the ultimate brainiac, but... 

His eyes slammed shut. 

Maybe he wasn’t as frozen as he thought. 

But Ford hated him now. 

Even after managing to get all of those snake puzzle pieces back together, Ford must've still hated him! Was it crazy to think they still made a great team even though he practically went into cardiac arrest multiple times over the past three hours?! Christ, did Stan miss the now-old bastard! Shermie was always figuratively universes away with his baseball and the engineering and the skirts too young for Stan to chase with him, but there was always that thing about being twins. He couldn’t get away from Stanford even if he wanted to. He _never_ even wanted to until... now? Now. He couldn’t blame Ford for not wanting to be around him either. Hell, he wouldn’t even blame Ford for hating him! 

But Stanley kept standing right here. 

The Mr. Mystery suit got even stickier from the heat and yet he still couldn’t move. He could probably say anything right now and get away with it unless he had to start running for whatever reason. But everything still felt like Jell-O so maybe not _actual_ running! 

And that thick silence just kept going. 

Stanley looked down at his shadow at the right side of the footstool seat, his lips feeling dry and sticky just thinking about opening them. 

And Stanford was breathing pretty loudly, but maybe that was just the ramped up hearing aid. The sturdy in-and-out was almost calming at least until the bug light behind Stan zapped once then twice. 

OK, that’s it! 

He finally turned the hearing aid down. 

There was so much to say and yet not as his arm swung back down to his side. He could be honest and say he missed the best older twin-nerd brother a guy could have despite their hating each other! He could _also_ say he was sorry about the science fair and his machine, for being a little jealous of the science taking Ford away from him, everything _but_ bringing him back to this dimension! He could've even joked if it was the stubble that made him look more like Filbrick! He could've asked if Ford really did want to get rid of him or if it was just the universe paying Stan back! Or if Stanley was just an idiot masochist, he could even casually mention why Ford didn't even push pause on his hating him on that horrible night! 

OK, definitely _not_ that last one! 

Eyelashes scrunched together even harder. 

Nope, Stanley Caryn (OK, fine) Pines just kept standing right there like a dope. 

Open your goddamned mouth, Pines! Geez! 

“Well, uh” and his throat was just as dry as his mouth. A little cough awkwardly barked right out as Stan opened his eyes back onto the shack’s massive backyard and the footstool in front of them. “Heh, _that_ was something!” 

“Hm, yes it was.” 

“Heh,” Stan finally looked over to his older brother still staring right ahead and looking even calmer than _he_ was at the moment, “y-you _do_ know the kids would have done a much better job at this than us old guys, right?” 

Stanford actually and legitimately grinned even wider than that jab in front of the mirror over Stanley’s looking like Filbrick. A cold shudder went straight down his spine remembering the comment even now, but it was pretty great to see something close to a big dumb grin on that face of his. But if the “old sage” of the forest was as wise as it said it was, there was no point in being around Ford if he kept going hot and cold like this. He’d always been a little like this, Stanley always blaming it on Crampelter and his goons and even Filbrick. 

Huh, maybe... maybe Ford was just as messed up by Filbrick as _he_ was and Stan never really saw it until now! 

“I have no doubt, Stanley.” 

Ford grinned that much more familiar reserved grin right back at him. 

Maybe Stan was going crazy or his hearing aid needed replacing, but that senior citizen-version of his brother even sounded a little less guarded than usual. That lump that managed to make a mountain in the back of his throat while the big bad glass snake explained where it came from was back. Stanley _needed_ to get off the backyard right now! 

Run, you big dummy! He doesn’t want you here!

OK, _don’t_ run, everything _does_ hurt. Just jog then.

But Stanford _did_ want him to help with that rainbow-thingy. 

And there was that hot and cold thing all over again! 

“You know, ah, heh” and Stan really hated himself right now as he awkwardly chuckled all over again. Why wasn’t he moving his feet again?! “you, you coulda helped me with the pig...” 

Ford took a deep breath. 

“I, uh, I...” a palm flipped up in the air shrugging that thinking shrug, Stanley immediately saving his own ass as a nervous sweat started developing under that same arm, “I only mean we could have come up with a better plan than _that_! I swear I’m not trying to start anything right now, Ford, honest!” 

And this time, there was no businessman smile to top it all off. He was just _too_ exhausted to put that massive thing back on his face! 

Ford heaved that same breath right out and his shoulders sank from his earlobes. 

It got a little too quiet, Stanley missing the summer-y sounds of New Jersey crickets. A little rustling was coming from somewhere deeper in the forest. 

“I... I just figured if you didn’t want me around the kids,” Stanford mumbled down towards his boots and slowly looking back up to him, half of his face bright against the porch light, “then you probably didn’t want me to acquaint myself with any of their pets.” 

“Ah, shit, Poindexter,” a hand waved in Sixer’s direction, “There’s always been a rule in this house that anyone who lives in it helps take care of that dumb pig, so, heh, welcome to the pit crew?” An elbow was already inching out for Stanford‘s ribs, “No way of getting out of this one, bro.” 

That slid out way too easily as his elbow realized it was doing and dropped back to his side. 

“I _will_ remember that, Stanley,” Ford chuckled even less guarded as he kept grinning that tighter smart-guy grin, Stan not even knowing whether to breathe a little easier or just start panicking right here on the spot. 

But was he really as calm as he looked right now?! 

The better question was how long would _this_ time last?! 

Stanley took a deep breath as he finally took the fez off for the first time that day. There was that pine tree smell as he sighed it back out remembering the year he hid an air freshener in the Christmas tree, a hand sliding up into his hair. The grease slicked between his fingers as he brushed it all back to the crown of his head then smoothing out one side. Stan finally closed his eyes before peeking out from the corner of one to look at Ford. But his dress shoes were already moving underneath him as Stanley turned to face the guy who hated him. 

Stanford just kept staring at the fez not saying shit. 

Jesus, come on, Sixer! 

You’ve seen this dumb fez for our whole lives! 

Ask me whether or not I’m a freemason like Filbrick, god, just say something! 

“An—” Ford breathed hard out of his nose, wait, why was this older version of his voice shaking? Stan slid the fez back on his head completely exasperated, his arms crossing his oily fingers up into the nervous sweat at both of his armpits. “An-any regrets helping me with this?” 

He looked even more unguarded now as the ends of his big dopey grin practically hit his glasses frames. Stanley definitely had to start sprinting straight into his bedroom or the kitchen. The kids had to have been starving by now if they weren’t already back! 

And strangely... 

“Well,” Stan’s arms crossed even tighter over his chest as he shuffled back around to stare at the pitch-black backyard, “ _I’d_ like to think we did this together, Poindexter.” 

Out of the corner of that same eye, a half-lit Ford huffed all over again also looking back onto his... their experiment. The air was practically suffocating, but at least there was no high-pitched buzzing now. Ford’s shoulders finally sank as he nodded once then twice, half of an even tinier smart-guy smile smiling. 

“Well,” came out a little louder as Stan stretched his arms right out into the air, a few cricks groaning from somewhere in his back and maybe even his shoulders. He didn’t really care about the nervous sweat now breathing into the open air, “I should probably go get some dinner on for the kids. I’m trying to make them like spam sandwiches, they’ve never had them before!” 

“They come from California, Stan,” Ford chuckled with a smile somewhere between the smart-guy and the dopey hitting-the-bottom-edge-of-glasses range, his arms crossing over the buttons of his trench coat. “I may have not been in this dimension in some time, but I would assume California would always take pride in their fresh produce regardless of the decade.” 

“Heh, yeah. Apparently, there’s something called kale now which probably just tastes like, uh,” a hand swept over the darker back lawn, “grass.” The one hearing aid definitely caught Stanford chuckling even louder this time. 

Stanley peeked out of the corner of that same eye and his brother still grinned out to the pitch-black backyard and experiment area. Great Houdini, they, or really just Ford (and Stan was _more_ than fine with that), was _just_ talking to a snake made of glass! Gravity Falls never really fails to bring the weird. 

“OK, yeah,” he kept speaking right to the backyard. It did look like Soos needed to mow it soon, the one perk of getting that kid to do non-Mystery Shack essentials. OK, fine, maybe, _maybe_ Stan added an extra five bucks to his paycheck for the help, but you didn’t hear that from him! “We better get these,” Stan tossed the round palm-sized rock up in the air then catching it, “puppies hidden right now or Mabel _will_ make them into jewelry” and a cringe finally faced his older brother, “and for _me_ , bro!” 

Stanford snorted as he turned to face _him_ . His lighter gray streaks shook from the brighter lit side of his face to darker side, a tinier reserved grin starting to inch up. Seriously, how _did_ this guy get the cooler gray hair and Stan was stuck with just the one shade?! 

God damnit, come on, just say _something_! 

Why is this so hard?! 

And Ford kept looking at him with that little grin. 

Another rustle in the forest sounded a little closer this time, a loud huffing coming from the bushes just on the border of the shack’s property. 

Stan nearly jumped feeling something at the back of his neck, but it was only his own sweaty palm. Now he felt like an even _bigger_ dope! 

How _did_ this become so hard? 

“Hey, so uh, Ford—” 

“Yeah, Stan?” 

“W-would you like to help with dinner?” he scratched at his neck a little too hard, “We could introduce the kids t—” 

Stanford brightened right up as Stanley peeked off the corner of that same eye, a blur of dark pink running up across the lawn. 

“Grilled cheese and egg and spam?! Great Newton, I haven’t had that in—” 

Something slammed hard against the back door. 

“Ow.” 

Stan whipped around to the porch and Ford turned at the exact same time. 

And a stunned-looking Mabel stood right there in front of the door rubbing her nose looking like that tornado from “The Wizard of Oz” with sticks and leaves all up in her hair and dirt all over her clothes. 

The crystals! 

Stanley hid both hands behind his back and so was Stanford _and_ at the exact same time! 

“Ow,” that 12-year-old ankle biting troublemaker groaned as she kept rubbing her face. But something firm nudged at his shoulder from Ford’s direction. Stan squinted over to his brother and there were six fingers wiggling up into the air from behind his own back. Man, did _this_ take him back! He stepped in a little closer and dropping the crystal into that old “high six” partner, Stanford quickly putting both of them into an inner coat pocket. This really did take Stanley right back to when they used to do this as kids and the tears started to really hit the corners of his eyes. 

\+ 

**5 Hours Later...**

Stanford’s palms were still cradling the back of his head as he came back from the method of loci. The desk chair flexed as he sat up a little straighter and immediately grabbing his pencil which sat beside a fresh new journal. 

Everything poured right out. 

Ford wrote down every last detail about the Cubitum Serpentibus at a much cooler and precise speed than how he composed the last three journals; how it materialized from two separate pieces of Medusa’s infamous hair, how the two entities contended their own strange biological game of chance in order to metamorphose their genetic magnets towards one another (that whole topic had to have its own page ready for the next time Stanford would come in contact with Galinthias again!), its spectral agglutination, sketches of every individual piece as well as the Cubitum as a whole, everything! A sigh breathed out miles away from his own ears. 

Well, at least everything for now. 

Ford really was starting to hate feeling like he had to know everything, but would he still be himself if he didn’t?! 

The pencil slammed back down after what felt like an hour. 

He sighed right out and his stomach roared. 

Stanford almost hated himself just as much for turning down the opportunity of a grilled cheese and egg and spam sandwich. But there was something about getting it all down on paper as soon as possible as he walked around to the gift shop’s exit without a single word to Stanley who stood frozen on the back porch. Every step towards that very cleverly placed vending machine echoed too close to his ears. He felt sick and wrong as he slowly punched in the entrance code. 

Even his stomach interspersed between squeaking and groaning as Stanford rode the elevator back down into the basement. It was only a few minutes until he realized it was an actual hunger for real food! Extraordinary! He hadn’t been hungry like this in at least a decade! But instincts would kick in with pencil in one hand and a sandwich in the other and Ford would have the whole thing eaten in under five minutes as he scribbled down as much as he could into the new notebook. But he would have become instantaneously sick after digesting something that wasn’t in pill form so soon _and_ so quickly. If he wanted to phase food back into his life, it would have to be a gradual change, and he really couldn’t have told Stanley _that_ instead?! 

Stanley who just kept standing right there halved in full civil twilight and the automatic porch light behind them with the dopiest of grins and almost-tears and Stanford... Stanford... 

His fist came down hard against the desk. 

A few tears finally bridged at the corners of his eyes and to subsequently give into emotions never felt so good and yet not all at the same time. 

Stan must have felt just as rejected as Galinthias among the Midwest Iunctarums! 

Stanford froze. 

Oh, no. 

His younger brother _had_ to have felt exactly like that! But Ford puffed out his chest as he sat at that awful desk he never wanted to see ever again. Well, it _was_ on Stan for even bothering to get him back in Dimension 46'\ in the first place! 

But... 

"Stanley! Stanley, help me!” he finally remembered yelling, the gateway’s ice blue gravitational pull pulling him backwards. It was almost as much of an automatic response as when he pushed Stan into the control panel seeing nothing but red and then that scream... That scream that haunted what little sleep Stanford got for the first half of those 30 years and then that absolute moment of clarity where Bill and even his shadow didn’t exist in. 

My brother is hurt... I accidentally hurt my brother! 

“Stanley! Stanley! Do something!” and he threw Journal One down to Stan’s feet as his whole body started burning and fragmenting apart all at the same time, “STANLEY!” 

Then Ford was floating in a blank white space hoping that the journals would be justifiably discarded and Stan would do right by him. But he remembered everything from the other side of this space except for the moments just before getting sucked in! 

“Talk to Stan. Look down at the bottom bunk.” 

Great Newton, he really did ask for it! 

Stanford didn’t realize he just closed his eyes. 

Those exact words really did still echo out from behind metal sealed doors in his method of loci which looked exactly like his dormitory building’s hallway and those doors looking like the shunt in his own head. But he kept walking down this wonderful old image, his own words materializing just as loudly as he passed a few more of them. 

“ _I'm_ selfish, Stanley? How can _you_ say that after costing me my dream school?" Ford remembered he immediately regretted that last half the second it came out of his mouth, his exhausted eyes wide like saucers genuinely horrified. 

“I'm giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won't even listen!” 

“You ruined your own life!” 

Every apology a teenage version of himself made in his head about not believing Stan about the Perpetual Motion Machine really did fly right out the window. Was it so horrible that Stanford at least wanted to know that his long-suffering research, however dangerous, was at least safely hidden?! Destroying it would be like tearing his own skin off which Bill might have actually done to him at least once or twice. 

But there was just no simple way to expound to Sherman’s grandkids while hiding in the testing area how anger easily feeds anger. It was a monozygous twin curse to feel the other’s sentiments to an excessively acute level that Edgar Allan Poe would have understood although not exactly being a twin himself. Those punches and pushes were nothing correlated to the angry and destroyed looks all over that face that looked so much like his own. Never did Ford hate himself as he wrote out Stan's then-current address on that post card, and yet after that sobering scream, he _did_ feel a little anchored. Anchored and mad at _himself_. 

Even as Stanford walked down that corridor, Stanley’s scream still haunted those more metaphorical eardrums. It was unusual to exclusively depend on his intuition to locate the room where all of this afternoon’s events prevailed, but eventually he detected it. He had to rewind the whole timetable at least twice just to focus on Galinthias's every word, how they set up the Cubitum Serpentibus Variation on Newton’s Prism Experiment test area! 

“Talk to Stan. Look down at the bottom bunk.” 

But Stan punched a Pterodactylus! 

He actually started to care for Nth eventually! 

He actually sprinted around Nth’s spectral light like a damned madman while Stanford stood right there stunned at hearing the simplest two words! 

But Stanley _did_ glaze up a little while up on the roof and a few times once back on solid ground and the memory version of himself didn’t even notice any of them! Stanford felt so much like Ebenezer Scrooge in “The Christmas Carol” wanting to shout at his own ghostly apparition to acknowledge that dumb but wonderful and stupidly self sacrificial younger twin brother who he was still rightfully mad at! 

Stanley may have thought himself a great conman and showman, but that ridiculous knucklehead never could hold anything in too well. A little smile inched up the corners of his mouth like every single one he grinned in his brother’s direction as they stood in those first few minutes of nightfall. 

But what a knucklehead he was, thinking that Ford was in any way versed in the ways of handling a pig! Somehow it seemed more than sensical that all pets with justifiable mammalian four legs would be considerably trained to fetch to some capacity! So, he clumsily tossed the large twig into the shack hoping nothing broke. Stanford knew he warranted all of Stanley’s rage _and_ mutatis mutandis, composure never being one of his stronger suits as he attempted to brush it all off but failing miserably. 

“Talk to Stan. Look down at the bottom bunk.” 

Those nine words was becoming more of an intuitive fact than that whisper. 

It felt kind of nice to hear his intuition like this again, having lived on a survivor version of it since... well, since Stanley was kicked out and Filbrick’s obsession with his innate overachieving ways making the family money got worse! 

His hands were warm and a little sticky from a colder sort of sweat as they held up his forehead, elbows hard against the desk underneath them. Ford also attributed a good percentage of all of this on that horrible man whose name he just _had_ to have for a middle one! Maybe Stanley did him a favor and excluded it on the name change papers, Stanford had been wanting to do that since college. But after a few therapy sessions that were wrongly thrust on him while in Backupsmore, condemning the parents was just a little too easy and yet made so much sense at the same time! 

Yes, Stanford [hopefully no middle name now] Pines hated himself as the tears finally leaked out of his eyes, and he really deserved it! 

\+ 

Stan really deserved this, didn’t he? 

And staring at the wood ceiling probably wasn’t going to help him fall asleep either. He couldn’t even think back to the night he got kicked out like he usually did. Instead, he was clamoring up the back porch steps just a few hours ago prickling with excitement like a porcupine about to get laid. Ford would actually follow him any second now and tonight would be the first night the Pines bros would be in a kitchen together! That sounded like a potential disaster although a pretty epic one. And out of the corner of one eye, Ford was going in the direction of the gift shop instead. Stan just turned around right there on the porch crossing his arms for what felt like the millionth time that day. Somehow, he wasn’t too surprised. 

“Grunkle Stan,” Mabel had her lower “I’m explaining adult things to an adult” voice turned on, a sticky little hand on his knee. Stan never could help but grin whenever she tried that one on him as he looked down at her and right at that big red bump on her nose. Yeesh. It was going to be a _real_ adventure getting her scraped knees patched up too! “Are you OK?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be, pumpkin?” 

Just saying that out loud didn’t completely clear out the knot in the back of his throat as Stan felt himself lean over not even caring how much it was going to hurt. He just tickled that little gremlin at that one spot on her waist and Mabel nearly shrieked giggling as she started slapping at his hand. Now _this_ was making him feel a little better now! 

But that little face winced. 

“Ow.” 

And Stan was willing to bet that up underneath that sweater (seriously, did Mabel get this summer fashion trait from Ford?!) there was a scraped up elbow. He hoped it was _just_ a scrape! Please be just a scrape! 

“Geez!” he almost made himself dizzy as he shook his head, grabbing one out of the two niblings around the waist and hoisting her up onto the one shoulder that worked the crystal all afternoon. Yep, definitely regretting this decision! “What happened to you, kiddo?” 

“It’s a long story and you wouldn’t believe me,” Mabel sighed out sounding a little too tired for spam sandwiches. Stan definitely felt even lighter as he made his way down the porch steps. “But what happened to _you_?” 

Those annoyingly curious little eyebrows slid up on her forehead. 

“Heh, it’s a long story and _you_ wouldn’t believe _me_.” 

“Fair enough." 

By the time Stanley walked around to the main door, Mabel was nearly asleep and using the side of his head for a pillow. You really couldn’t have paid him to go past that vending machine again and you _know_ that’s saying something!

An even more exhausted Dipper was sprawled over the front patio catching his breath. 

“Geez, _you_ look like crap.” 

A single thumbs up stuck right up in the air. 

“Soooo, what have _you_ two been doing?!” 

“It’s a long story” Dipper groaned out even higher, that ol’ pubescent pitch squeaking between his words, “you wouldn’t believe us.” 

“Uh huh, yeah, OK,” Stanley tried nodding along with his words as a certain little koala started wrapping her arms around either side of his fez. He paused for dramatic effect and the warm gooey feeling in his stomach over these kids got even stickier, “I respect the both of you for sticking to your story.” 

He ended up grabbing Dipper by his T-shirt collar on the way up the steps. The kid went right up onto the other shoulder and holy sweet mother of Godzilla, _definitely_ regretting this one too! But at least they both were laughing, scuffed up and clearly exhausted _but_ laughing! 

Geez, he really did love these kids! 

What _was_ this summer doing to him?! 

“...as far as I’m concerned, they’re the only family I have left!” 

Stan grabbed the other pillow and immediately plopped it down on his face. 

He really did regret that one, although technically he wasn’t wrong. Shermie and his wife only had one kid a coupla years before Stanley Pines “died.” The poor bastard of a younger brother Stan could never get entirely close to ended up dying of a heart attack at just 50 a few years ago, and then, of course, there was Filbrick and Ma who had been gone for even longer. Stan _wasn’t_ wrong! Shermie’s son and his family really were all he had now... Maybe. 

Maybe?! 

Wait. 

No. 

He didn’t know!!! 

And then Dipper and Mabel started getting into all of those lesser dangerous weird adventures, the both of them clamming up like earlier on the bad ones. Stan could just tell by now. But the second Shermie’s son told him he was taking the kids for the summer, he pushed that dresser in front of Ford’s bedroom door so fast, he nearly had a stroke. Stan did _everything_ he could to keep them away from all of the weirdness but even that _didn’t_ work! He even pretended none of it existed and he really was paying for it now, wasn’t he? The weird really does end up following those kids; it’s like it just smells the Pines DNA or something! And then all of Ford’s scarier weirdness orbiting everything they were discovering in these last few weeks... 

But an adventure is _still_ an adventure. 

Stanley grumbled into the pillowcase. 

Was it very wimpy of him to admit he felt just a smidgen jealous watching those kids run into the forest with their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders? It looked like he and Ford at 12-years-old riding their bikes down to Glass Shard Beach, how Stan would grab his brother’s shoulder almost getting high off of Ford’s excitement and... 

A little sniff loudly split through the quiet, his legs automatically kicking a mild storm under his blanket. 

But then today kind of felt like an old timer version of a lesser dangerous weird adventure. Sure, it wasn’t a _sea_ -bound treasure hunting one and Stanley, well, he kind of enjoyed it at least in hindsight even with a sore... everything! 

Another grumble vibrated the pillow. 

He really deserved what was coming to him! 

Come September, he would be homeless and out of a job _and_ without family and... 

OK, suffocating, not breathing! 

_Thwmp_.

The pillow dropped to the mattress and he gasped up to the that taunting wood ceiling. Stan already felt himself leaning towards one side of his pillow in that ol’ bunkbed head tilt like he was craning up to see... 

Some 15-year-old nerd on the top bunk reading out loud some kind of a cool fantasy war book, Stanley could never remember what it was called. And now a _57_ -year-old nerd was three or four floors below him although with a good reason. 

He didn’t know how far in Ford was with dismantling that King Kong-sized portal. All Stan knew was that every time he walked the ground floor, his feet felt a lot more relieved than usual. Heck, he would have even offered to help if it wasn’t for “you really aren’t going to thank me, are you?” already coming out of his big dumb mouth. Ford wasn’t the only one who watched over that thing! But Stan knew he sure as hell wasn’t invited back down there ever again. It was bad enough going down there night after night for the past 30 years and reliving every second of that fight. Sometimes that weird unofficial tattoo even started to itch and then Stanley could remember nothing else but the blood charging through his ears like a pack of angry bees and hurtling towards Stanford. 

Geez, don’t hurt him, Stan-O, you still kinda love the bastard! 

Just rough him up enough so he gets the message! 

Stanley used to imagine while accidentally falling asleep in that old desk chair what it would have been like if the portal didn’t turn on like it did. After 45 minutes, they would have been all fought out and lying on the basement floor gasping for air. He would have been holding back so many tears, Stan would have accidentally done some kind of emotional 180° and started laughing like a maniac. And it wouldn’t have stopped anytime soon either. Hopefully Poindexter would've caught a little of the contagiousness and they would just end up laying right there numb, but giggling like kids at the same time. Stanley would have been on his way to either Washington State or California in another half hour sure that Stanford _didn’t_ want him in his life. 

But today was kinda fun... at least in hindsight. At least Sixer would be just as sore as _he_ was in the morning, but then he might not even come up from his “Caddyshack” hole tomorrow. Stanley sighed right up to those wooden panels. 

Great Barnum and Bailey, he sure missed the guy! 

He blinked a few times up to the ceiling, the tiny realization didn’t entirely stab into his stomach like it usually did. 

Despite Stanford’s not fighting for him the night he got kicked out or getting rid of that journal the way that nerdy control freak _wanted_ , Stanley really did miss the best older brother a guy could have. Or at least the best older brother a guy could have when they were kids. The sides of his nose felt wet. Was there any way to get the old them back?! Maybe, maybe, no, it _definitely_ would be a little easier to stop being so exhausted like this. Stan may as well forgive Ford... at least in his mind. It was better than being bitter to the point of a heart attack, right? 

And after 2 hours, Stanley finally fell asleep. 

He didn’t even dream about Rico or any of his prison time or even his ex-wife, but a 10-year-old Ford smiling down at him from the top bunk... and then life-sized G.I. Joe’s came running into their childhood bedroom. 


End file.
